Pearl (14 page)
With one smooth motion, Opal sat astride Bay’s back, her grin wider than the sun. She leaned forward to pat the horse’s shoulder.
‘‘How’s it feel?’’ Rand smiled up at her.
‘‘Good.’’ Opal wiggled her feet. She tried to straighten her skirt. ‘‘I should go put on my divided skirt. It would work better.’’
She glanced at Ruby, down at the hole in her stocking at knee level, and over to Cimarron, who chuckled.
‘‘I could spend half my time mending your stockings, Opal. Good thing summer is coming, and we can all go barefoot again.’’
Ruby groaned. ‘‘Keeping you in clothes is getting worse all the time. You’re growing faster than the weeds in Charlie’s garden.’’ ‘‘I snagged the stockings on a tree branch.’’
‘‘Tree branch?’’ Ruby’s eyebrows matched her tone. ‘‘Do I want to know why you were up in a tree?’’
‘‘Well, ah . . .’’ Opal sighed. ‘‘I was up in that big cottonwood down by the river. The robins are building a nest there, and I wanted to see if they’d laid any eggs yet.’’
Cimarron didn’t bother to hide her snort.
Rand stood on the offside of Bay, watching Ruby’s reaction from under his hat brim. He schooled his mouth to hold a straight line, in spite of a mustache that threatened to twitch.
‘‘So were there eggs in the nest?’’ Cimarron asked.
‘‘I-I . . .’’ Opal glanced over at Ruby and made a scrunched-up face. ‘‘That’s when the branch broke, and I snagged—’’ She stopped at the audible intake of her sister’s breath.
‘‘How about I lead for a bit, so you can get your balance?’’ Rand didn’t dare look at Ruby, knowing for sure the horror she’d be feeling. But, Opal hadn’t fallen, not far at least. Of course, young ladies shouldn’t be climbing trees like that, but life out here on the prairie didn’t bear the manners and frills of city life. Opal would do well here with her courage and sense of adventure. ‘‘Now hang on to her mane and let your body relax so you move with her.’’ As he spoke, he watched Opal’s grin grow wider.
They ambled around the pasture, and as she relaxed her grip on the hank of black mane, he walked Bay in circles, turns, and figure eights.
He glanced over to the gate to see Ruby and Cimarron talking as they watched the horse and rider. When Cimarron laughed, he figured things were settled down somewhat and it might be safe to go back.
‘‘How you feelin’ up there?’’ he asked Opal.
‘‘Ah, like I could ride forever.’’
He nodded. ‘‘Yeah, ridin’s like that. When you ride the high buttes, it’s like you can see forever, all the world laid out in rumples and valleys, greenin’ up, the sky so blue you can taste it.’’
‘‘Sure different from where we came from.’’
‘‘Me too. How about we pick up the pace a mite, and see how you sit to a trot. Best way is to lean back some, stay loose. If you clamp your legs tight, it offsets your balance. You ready?’’
‘‘Sure.’’
Rand clucked to the horse, jogged a couple of steps, and Bay came right along with him. He caught a glance of Opal out of his eye, jiggling to the left, centering, and off to the right before she caught on and did as he’d said. Her stuttering giggle brought him back to a walk.
‘‘That’s fun.’’
‘‘I know. You go ahead now and take the reins. Keep her to a walk for a while.’’ He stopped and watched as Opal gathered her reins. ‘‘When you squeeze your legs, that’s telling her to go forward. Don’t go flappin’ your reins. Let your legs do your talkin’.’’
Bay stood, her head slightly down, like she was taking a well-earned snooze. Opal nudged her. Nothing happened.
‘‘Come on, Bay.’’
‘‘Rein her to the left and dig in your heels. She’s feeling a mite on the lazy side.’’
Opal did as instructed, and the mare moved off.
Rand watched a moment longer, then ambled over to the fence.
Ruby was watching Opal carefully. ‘‘What happens if she falls off?’’
‘‘She gets back on.’’
‘‘Mr. Harrison, that’s my little sister you are referring to, not one of your cowhands.’’
‘‘She’ll make a good cowhand if she keeps on goin’ like she is.’’
‘‘I think not.’’
‘‘You never know. Not the most ladylike of aspirations, but it’s good, honest work, and there’s lots of it.’’
‘‘I’d go on a cattle drive, if I could.’’ Cimarron rested her chin on her stacked hands that clutched the fence post. ‘‘Herdin’ cows ain’t like servin’ customers. Never seen a dishonest cow. Nor one deliberately mean, lessen you get between her and her calf. Any dumb fool does that deserves to get stomped on.’’
‘‘Yeah, well, come brandin’ time, you can come out and argue with those long-horned mamas who resent us with every hair on their hide.’’
‘‘Not me. I’ll leave that part to you cowboys who don’t mind being dragged through the dirt. I’ll bring out the beans and biscuits.’’
Rand watched Ruby’s face. ‘‘Opal learns quick, Miss Torvald.
Don’t go worryin’ about her so much.’’
‘‘Mister Harrison, Opal is my only living relative, and it is my duty to worry about her.’’
Rand watched her flounce past Charlie, who was digging manure into the garden, answer something he asked her, and stomp, as much as a lady like her would allow a stomp, up the porch steps and into the hotel.
‘‘You sure can get her dander up, Mister Rand.’’ Cimarron emphasized the mister. She and Rand had been on a first-name basis for some time.
‘‘Not like I mean to. I was just offerin’ some good advice.’’ Rand tipped his hat back.
And here I thought we were gettin’ along
pretty good for a change
.
That evening, after a fine supper in the dining room, Rand joined the other men in the cardroom.
‘‘Rand Harrison,’’ he said by way of introduction when he sat down at the table with Belle and three men he’d not met before.
‘‘Marquis de Mores,’’ said the man with dark eyes and waxed mustache tips.
‘‘Fulbright of New York,’’ said another. ‘‘I heard you own a spread south of here.’’
‘‘Small one, only seven hundred head.’’ He shook his head at the offered cigar. ‘‘No thanks.’’ He glanced at the man on his left.
‘‘William Van Driesche,’’ he said with a nod.
‘‘All right, boys, what’ll it be?’’ Belle shuffled the cards, riffling them back into a perfect stack between her cupped hands.
‘‘Five-card draw.’’ The Frenchman’s accent lay heavy on the air. He bit the tip off his cigar and spit it off to the side.
Rand caught a quick look of censure from Belle. With her foot, she shoved the spittoon closer, the act a remonstrance in itself.
Ah, he’s gotten on the wrong side of Belle. Wonder what brought
this on?
‘‘Mind if I join ya?’’ Jake Maunders barely paused in pulling out the chair between Rand and de Mores. Rand got a faceful of the odor that made de Mores flinch.
The evening went downhill from there. When the three visitors to town periodically tried to discuss what Rand assumed to be de Mores’s dreams for the area, Jake interrupted with loud, increasingly rude comments.
Rand quietly pulled in his rather consistent winnings, earning dirty digs from the odoriferous man beside him.
After losing yet again, Maunders pushed back his chair and half stood. Rand raised an eyebrow, and glanced in his direction as a hint to Belle. Her minuscule nod told him she realized what was about to happen.
‘‘You’re cheatin’!’’ Jake leaned on his arms over the edge of the table.
‘‘Pardonnezmoi?’’
The French words came softly but were underlaid with steel.
‘‘Jake, sit down and behave yourself. You know no one cheats at my table.’’ Belle went on gathering the cards to shuffle again. De Mores had won the hand.
‘‘You’re in cahoots with him. I ain’t won a hand in three nights.’’ Spittle dotted the tabletop.
Rand leaned back, arms loosely crossed. Silence, but for Jake’s heavy panting, filled even the corners of the room.
‘‘Sorry for the interruption.’’ Charlie appeared from the next room, picked Maunders up by the collar and, with another hand at his belt, quickstepped the now swearing man from the room.
The bell jingled as he opened the door and tossed the bellowing drunk out onto the dirt street.
‘‘I’m sorry, gentlemen. I should have called for Charlie sooner.’’
‘‘It is not your fault,
madame
. Please to continue the deal.’’ The marquis nodded toward Rand. ‘‘And please see if you can keep all the good cards out of his hand.’’
The other two men chuckled, and one blew three perfect smoke rings. ‘‘How many cows did you say you have, Harrison?’’ the marquis asked.
‘‘Cows or cattle?’’
‘‘Cattle.’’
‘‘Seven hundred head.’’
‘‘And, when my abattoir is operational, will you sell me your steers?’’
‘‘Abattoir?’’
‘‘Slaughterhouse, monsieur. It will be, how you say, operational by next summer.’’
‘‘Where are you building this?’’
‘‘Right across the river. That flat meadow, it now belongs to me. I will be buying steers from Minnesota and Texas to be delivered this summer and fattened until next.’’
‘‘I see.’’
‘‘I will offer market prices, and there will be no loss for shrinkage in shipping with beeves shipped in ice-cooled cars.’’
Belle dealt the final round. ‘‘Ready, gentlemen?’’
The men picked up their cards as if having never dropped such an amazing bit of news.
The marquis studied his cards and glanced over at Rand. ‘‘It is not a dream, monsieur. The town will be named Medora, after my wife. Building will begin as soon as materials arrive by train.’’
‘‘You gonna wish you had plenty more cows, Rand. This man means business.’’ Belle blew smoke out the side of her mouth, waving her cigarillo like a baton. ‘‘You mark my words, Little Missouri is in for some big changes.’’
‘‘Pass.’’ Rand folded his hand and laid the cards on the table.
The marquis won the pot, which brought a satisfied smile to his dark eyes and groans from his friends.
‘‘Thanks for the entertainment. I have a long ride home.’’ Rand pushed his chair back. ‘‘I’ll look forward to working with you.’’
‘‘Bien.’’
The Frenchman dipped his head in a single nod. ‘‘What I build will bring wealth to Medora and the ranches.’’
‘‘And you.’’
‘‘And you also.’’
‘‘Guess we’ll have to see what happens.’’
‘‘Oh, it will happen. Never fear.’’
‘‘Good night, gentlemen.’’ Rand stuffed his winnings in his pocket and, after bidding Belle good-night, headed for the door.
Charlie handed him his hat as he left the room. ‘‘I’ve been listening to him for the last couple nights. Either he is a preposterous liar, or he has the backing of men with access to great wealth. Wish I had some steers to feed out.’’
‘‘You think he’s on the up and up?’’
‘‘I do.’’
‘‘Well, we’ll see. Night, Charlie. Thanks.’’
Once out the door, Rand settled his hat securely on his head and headed to where Buck was still tied at the hitching rail. True to her word, Opal had fed and watered him, the bucket still half full of water.
Rand checked his cinch and swung aboard. He crossed his hands on the saddle horn and studied the hotel for a moment. He could stay here overnight, but he’d told Beans he’d be home.
Could all this be trusted? Only time would tell.
Chicago , May 1883
Growing town in western Dakota Territory seeking teacher for all grades. Applicants must be of good moral character, preferably with teaching experience, without family encumbrances, able to relocate by the opening of school in September. Send letter of intent and list of qualifications and experience. Include return address and references.
The ad closed with the address to which applications should be sent.
Pearl Hossfuss read the advertisement for the third time. She had all the qualifications but one—family encumbrances. Would her father let her go? Would it be worth applying?
At a knock on her door, she laid the paper back on the table after folding it so the advertisement lay hidden.
‘‘Come in.’’ With an unconscious movement, her right hand checked to be sure the high ruching-trimmed neckline of her fine lawn waist covered the wrinkled red scar on her neck.
